


Pale Flower

by elisetales



Category: Infernal Devices - Cassandra Clare
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-09
Updated: 2012-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-29 06:33:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisetales/pseuds/elisetales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love has always made Will Herondale irrational. Inspired by the short story 'Burning Bright.' Pre-Clockwork Angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pale Flower

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after reading _Burning Bright_ , a short companion fic by Cassandra Clare that came with my version of _Clockwork Prince._ I still think the relationship Will and Jem share is beautiful. ❤

Every Christmas at the Institute was the same: Henry would get drunk after dinner and start singing horrendously out-of-tune carols while Charlotte, mortified, pleaded with her husband to stop; Jessamine would end up sitting alone by the window with a bitter look on her face as she stared out at the passing mundanes; while Will and Jem would simply sit upon the lounge together, side by side, and silently watch the amusing goings-on as if from afar, content just to be near one another.

This Christmas, however, was quite different. Two young ladies from the Paris Institute were visiting with their mother, and while their presence was thankfully enough to stop Henry from embarrassing himself, it was not enough to make this Christmas fare any better than the last — though Jem looked as if he would certainly disagree with this hypothesis. One of the girls — Ruby, Will thought her name was — had taken Will's place on the lounge beside Jem, and was now speaking to the boy in hushed tones, laughing about something apparently only they were privy to. She was pretty enough, Will opined: Her hair was fair and shining — braided, and coiled into a knot at the base of her neck. But over the course of the evening her slender gloved fingers had crept from where they'd lain in her lap, and were now resting far too close to Jem's wrist for Will's liking.

He glowered at them from across the room, his fingers twitching for the sheathed blade resting against his hip. He knew he was being ridiculous — the girl was a Shadowhunter, not some slavering demon to be bloodily dispatched — but he could not help wishing for her to just _go away_. Christmas was _their_ day, Will thought bitterly — _his_ day with Jem. And who was this girl, this stranger, to breeze on in here and wave her shapely figure and exorbitant breasts in front of Will's _parabatai_ 's face? She'd be gone come next week, anyway; and Will, as he sat there glaring at them, decided that it was his duty, as Jem's _parabatai_ and self-appointed protecter, to shield Jem from any hurt this French-speaking temptress might visit upon him.

Will took a breath and stood to his feet, slowly crossing the room until he stood before them. They didn't even look up at him until he was almost standing on their toes.

"Will?" Jem raised a pale brow. His face was flushed with wine and the warmth of the crackling fire, silver eyes gleaming with fleeting health.

Will frowned as he looked down at Jem's face. He almost regretted what he was about to do. He set his jaw and steeled his resolve, looking down at the girl, who was staring up at him now as if he were some curious oddity; something she had tried, and failed, to understand. He saw himself as if detached from his body, speaking to her the words that he had memorized back there on the chaise — words a gentleman should never dare say to a lady. He watched her face change from mild happiness, to shock, to uncontrollable anger. Hitching her skirts, she stood to face him, delivered him a stinging slap, and promptly stormed from the room.

Everything was silent.

Jessamine rolled her eyes at Will — by now she was well-accustomed to the scenes he caused — and turned back to the window. Charlotte threw him a look like a flaming arrow and swiftly departed after Ruby, muttering that she'd deal with him later; and Henry just stood there by the desk, blinking as if he hadn't a clue what had just occurred.

"Were you upset that she displayed an interest in me and not in you?" It was Jem, looking up at Will as if he'd hit him.

Pushing down the guilt, Will made a face at the boy. "Of course not; I have no interest in her at all. I was just jealous."

"Of _what_?"

"Of her. With you." Will let out a groan and pinched the bridge of his nose. Lowering his voice, he said, "I was jealous of her _being_ with you — sitting with you — when I wanted to be with you." He didn't know how else to put it.

Ever since he'd come here at twelve years old, Will thought, Jem had been his centre; his shining light in a world containing nothing but darkness; his _family_. Even if Will could no longer remember what it felt like to be loved, Jem was the closest thing he'd ever come to it. And he loved Jem. When he was sure of nothing else, he was always sure of that.

"She barely even knows you," he finished, knowing that he sounded rather like a sulky child.

"You're extraordinarily petty," Jem sagely advised, though there was no real malice in his tone. "Like a child who refuses to let anyone else play with his toys—"

"You are not a toy," Will grumbled. He folded his arms across his chest and plopped down beside Jem, resting his head against the high padded back of the lounge. "You're my Jem." He looked at Jem sidewards then and tried for a small smile. "I only wanted to protect you from her. You do know that, don't you?"

Jem rolled his eyes but appeared to relax a little. "She's a girl, Will, not a Shax demon. Really, how much harm could she do?"

Will snorted. "Clearly you're not educated in the ways of women. The short answer is: A lot."

"You've got to stop interfering whenever anyone tries to get close to me. You don't have a monopoly on me, Will."

"Yes, I do," Will argued, quick to disagree. "You're my _parabatai._ And I am yours. We belong to each other."

"That's not what being _parabatai_ means, Will," Jem countered. He sounded exhausted now.

"Then what does it mean? When I asked you to be mine, what did you think I wanted?"

Jem looked at him then, a little sadly, and said, "You were thirteen. You had no one in the world apart from me. I think you wanted love." With that, he got up and departed the room, leaving Will sitting there feeling a little like Jem had cut a hole inside his chest and inspected the contents of his heart.

_I think you wanted love._

As he watched the door fall closed behind his dearest friend, Will thought, _Yes, I wanted your love — but only your love. And even if I am so contemptible that you cannot love me in return, you will always have mine. Always._

_~Finis~_


End file.
